Sinking Ship: Short Film Review
There is beauty to simplicity in film that tends to go overlooked when pitted against the extravagance of Hollywood. Sometimes a quiet conversation between two people over dinner can have more of an emotional impact than a vast battle between humans and aliens. This is exactly what director Sasha Leigh Henry sought to capture when she created her new short film, Sinking Ship, the winner of the Vimeo Staff Pick Award at the Aspen Shortsfest in 2021.
The premise of the short film is easy to follow: a couple discusses their relationship over a romantic dinner for two at a restaurant in France. The man (Herschel Andoh) confesses that he does not feel fulfilled in their relationship, while the woman (Jenny Brizard) struggles to interpret his convoluted understanding of what love and romance is. Along the course of their conversation, she pieces together that what he really desires is her emotional dependence on him, a wish which she cannot in good conscience grant to him.
The mise-en-scene of the scene is minimalistic without being sparse. The table at which the couple sits is still set for a meal, a pristine white cloth beneath two sets of dishes, wrapped silverware, and several drinks. Behind them is a brick wall with an enormous picture of a stormy sea, a piece of art that inevitably draws your attention towards it. Occasionally, their waiter appears to take an order or place a drink down, but for the majority of the film the woman and man are the only subjects on screen.
Moving linearly in real time, it focuses on the dialogue more than anything else, encouraging viewers to engage in depth with screenwriter Tania Thompson’s script. Each shot, usually a medium close-up of either the woman or the man, lingers on their words, emphasizing the sincerity of their contrasting arguments. As the man struggles to adequately verbalize his feelings towards the woman, he stumbles over his words, grasping at the right way to express himself. At times the woman pauses to digest what he says, but she becomes increasingly frustrated with his lack of clarity: after circling around the idea of romance – or rather his idea of romance – she finally tells him bluntly, “no, I don’t understand [what you mean]. I’m not trying to be an asshole either – I genuinely don’t understand.” Their discussion flows naturally, without any grand gestures or melodramatic outbursts; you get the sense that it is a real conversation that has happened outside the context of the short film.
In addition, the sound design is limited to atmospheric noises – the tinkling of silverware against dishes from other people in the restaurant, soft voices wrapped up in other conversations – and a gentle instrumental soundtrack that swells in the background, almost imperceptible beneath the clarity of the couple’s voices. Despite its relative quietness, the music heightens the depth of emotion that comes through with every word the couple speaks; melancholy with a twinge of wistfulness, the music gives off the feeling of something once enchanting but now lost.
Then of course there is the element of the moving painting that comes into play at the climax of the scene, when the woman asks the man why he wants her to need him more, a question which both offends him and which he has difficulty answering. From this point on, the tempestuous sea comes to life, great waves rolling in the backdrop of their own tumultuous discourse, and the differences in what both individuals seek in love become too great to overcome together.
All of these elements culminate in building a realistic illustration of a failing relationship. Both members of the couple have their own legitimate reservations against each other: the man feels undervalued as a partner, and the woman feels compelled to sacrifice her independence and self-worth to appease his lack thereof. Even without explicitly detailing their history together, it is clear that this moment between the woman and man has been a naturally occurring progression long in the making.
The performances of both Andoh and Brizard contribute to this realism as well; they give life to every sentence in such a way that even with a literal moving painting in the background, you forget you are watching a short film. Oftentimes movies present conflict in hyper stylized and over exaggerated scenes – fights break out, dishes are thrown, and we as viewers feel secure in knowing that such scenes are far removed from our extra-filmic reality. By adopting a more realistic approach to cinema, Sinking Ship makes its conflict personal to its audience and subsequently presents a more poignant insight into how relationships may fall apart: perhaps the woman and man still love each other, but they ultimately expect different things in love.